


Legacy

by Ellionne



Series: Practice Creates Masters (Smut Collection) [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (kind of), AU - Voldemort wins, Anal Fisting, Body Horror, Bottom Harry, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Edging, Full Snake Insert, Hemipenes, Incubator Harry, M/M, Mindbreak, Objectification, Overstimulation, Oviposition, Porn With Plot, Ritual Sex, Size Kink, Snakeface Voldemort, Stomach Bulging, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27505477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellionne/pseuds/Ellionne
Summary: His Horcrux stared at him with wide green eyes. Voldemort could see the panic, the fear. He had accepted his place in the ritual just reluctant, but hehadgiven the important permission for Voldemort to use his body, and while the preparation seemed to have scared his Horcrux, Voldemort would make sure he would not go back on his word.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: Practice Creates Masters (Smut Collection) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959892
Comments: 24
Kudos: 316
Collections: Enabled and Approved at the Wholesome Place





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PinkyToes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkyToes/gifts).



> **Do NOT repost, recreate or translate.**
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LUV!  
> Enjoy your guilty pleasure gift-fic. It's as disturbing as my fluff loving soul was able to manage - for whatever it's worth. :D
> 
> Thanks to my beta [Sage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14) <3
> 
> ~~Spouse, my love, I know you're curious about my writing hobby but for your own sake, you should skip this one.~~

The seventh new moon of the year would be this night and Voldemort labored tirelessly in preparation for it. 

He disregarded all quivering and twitching as he worked his hand and part of his arm in and out and in and out. He was at it for quite some time now. Opened it up slowly but steadily.

Everything had to be perfect for tonight. 

He needed to be careful so nothing tore. He would not risk the possibility of an infection, all his effort of the last month would have been for naught. He could not use magic either, for it would disturb the process of the hatching; or rather, the bonding of the hatchlings to his magic.

“Please, I- I can’t take more.“

Voldemort hummed as he extracted his hand. His little Horcrux's relieved sigh broke off in a choked noise as he dived back in with pointer and middle finger of both hands and pulled at the rim of the entrance as much as it gave way, spreading his fingers wide in the process.

He ignored the whimpering of his Horcrux as he contemplated the sight under his hands. He had prepared him thoroughly, but would it be enough? He tugged a bit more at the stretched rim. 

The muscles had long since stopped struggling against him, but he could see them clenching around the empty air where previously his hand had spread them open. 

The eggs were roughly the size of Voldemort’s fist, so the preparation should be sufficient. He took the magic cleansed, polished silver plug and coated it in a gratuitous amount of the specifically for the ritual mixed oils before he squeezed it into the abused hole. It was a tight fit, but with a bit of additional teasing at the rim, he eventually managed to sink it slowly in. 

The cries of his Horcrux fell on deaf ears as Voldemort worked the plug deeper and deeper. He pressed one hand spread wide on the abdomen and waited for the feel of the device. It was important to make sure there would be enough room later. The rim closed slowly around the thinned ending of the plug as he finally felt the tip of it under his hand. 

Perfect. 

He fastened the endplate of the plug into the harness which spanned over the pale, sun-deprived skin of his Horcrux and already held onto a cock cage, holding in a forcefully limped cock. Voldemort stood up and left the room without a further thought towards the shivering mess on the workbench, his mind focused on the upcoming ritual. 

Today was not about pleasure. 

Today was about writing magical history. 

  
  
  
  


Tom Marvolo Riddle used to be a prodigy.  
Even Dumbledore, for all that he had belittled and at the same time damned his very existence, was pressed into admitting such. 

Lord Voldemort though-  
Lord Voldemort was above such mere mortal concepts. His understanding of magic as a whole was unparalleled. He merged forgotten ancient arts effortlessly with newly discovered concepts. 

So, after excessive research and experiments, he was finally able to right the wrong his Horcrux had done while under Dumbledore's influence. He was about to let the first basilisks hatch since the times of Salazar Slytherin himself. 

Voldemort caressed the translucent shell of one of the three eggs before him with the utmost care. It might not be befitting for a Dark Lord of his station, but he felt more emotional than he could remember ever feeling. Not long and the work of his life would be brought to life. Literally.

They were not just _common_ Basilisks. But tied to his very magic. Only his to command. And while they were bound to him, he was bound to them. No harm could befall him and his remaining two soul shards as long as a single one of his creations would be alive. It was the perfect solution for all his needs and desires.

Or rather, it would be perfect if not for a single setback.   
To bind the Basilisks’ to his magic, he would need to _incubate_ them himself. For they needed the heat, the constant surrounding of the binding magic, and the _nutrition_ to develop as intended. 

Voldemort was never as glad about his shown rare restrain in the final duel with the Potter boy as he was at the moment his calculations revealed this particular requirement in the acquisition of the Basilisks. 

In fact, what had held the progress with the Basilisks back all this time was not the development of the eggs but the process of inventing an additional ritual. A ritual, which would allow his Horcrux to be the incubator of the eggs in his stead - without costing Voldemort the magical connection with the Basilisks. 

And now, finally, the right night had come. The operation of hatching the three eggs would begin at the night of the seventh new moon and last for thirteen days. 

He had already prepared his Horcrux for the ritual and the following incubation. He cleaned himself and the ritual state of all previous magic. He had arranged for his Horcrux’ accommodation in the rooms next to his. Everything was set.   
All that was left to do was meditating and waiting for the right moment.

  
  
  
  
  


They were in a forest. In a perfect circular clearing stood the altar in the form of a three-step pyramid. His Horcrux was already positioned on the blunt tip of it, his arms and legs bound onto the corners of the middle step, cock cage, and plug still in place.

In the dark night, only the light of the stars made the runes visible which were drawn in the blood and seed of Voldemort himself. It had taken him weeks of painstaking preparation but _finally_ \- 

“Are you ready?”

His Horcrux stared at him with wide green eyes. Voldemort could see the panic, the fear. He had accepted his place in the ritual just reluctant, but he _had_ given the important permission for Voldemort to use his body, and while the preparation seemed to have scared his Horcrux, Voldemort would make sure he would not go back on his word.

“If you are not willing to permit me this little help, why should I grant you accommodations? I do not need _you_ , Harry. I am just interested in my soul inside your body. It will stay intact when you are long insane, trapped for eternity into your own mind.”

“I- I want a vow.” It seemed the little Gryffindor had finally found his courage. Voldemort proceeded to stare him down. 

He saw how his Horcrux swallowed repeatedly before he dared to speak further. 

"I know this ritual is important to you. I'll participate willingly if you-" Voldemort watched as the green eyes shifted restlessly all over the place. His little Horcrux knew _exactly_ how thin the ice was he skated on. “If you give me a vow that you’ll _never_ put me into a tiny cell or a- a magical coma.” 

It was the quiet ending of his request that betrayed just _how much_ his Horcrux feared those options. Voldemort would not have needed the initial Legilimency interrogation and the gained knowledge of the cupboard under the stairs to understand that his Horcrux craved space for himself. And that his biggest fear was to be stored away and to be forgotten. 

Voldemort would love to resurrect Dumbledore just to shove it down his throat that the curriculum changes reasoned with the _safety of the poor children’s minds,_ was the sole reason why his beloved Harry Potter wasted this unique opportunity on a useless demand. For he would have known that it was impossible to confine more than one soul in a magical coma. Or that permanent bodily harm befalls _all_ occupants of the body.

While red eyes were locked into green, Voldemort called his wand between his pale, long fingers and made the demanded vow without further hesitation. He watched as his Horcrux eyes widened; he hadn’t believed for Voldemort to give in to his demand.

“It is time. So, I will ask one last time: Are you ready and willing to participate?“

Defeated, his Horcrux gave in and forced himself to relax onto the stone with closed eyes.

“I am willing.“

With the words uttered, the surrounding magic came alive and inflamed the drawn runes in a pale blue light. Voldemort felt the magic affecting himself in the desired way which urged his hemipenes to grow and extract themselves out of his body.   
He disregarded his robes where he stood and stepped bare behind his Horcrux before he knelt at the lowest step of the altar and coated his hands in the mixed oil that stood by. 

A probing tug at the silver plug let him sigh irritated while his Horcrux whimpered. It seemed his hard work had been unmade already. He kept tugging in small, repetitioned movements till the rim was loose enough to press one, then two fingers alongside the plug. He used them to carefully spread the hole. 

Voldemort ignored the noises of his Horcrux as much as the uncomfortable weight between his own legs as he teased the rim open again and finally, with one last strong tug, pulled the long, wide plug out.

His Horcrux sagged in his bindings and breathed fast and heavy while Voldemort used his hands to explore the wideness of the channel before him. He was still able to insert his hand and the following forearm, so he was positive that the ritual could be brought to success tonight. 

He pulled his arm free and raised to place himself behind his Horcrux. The heavy twin-length stood prideful between them. Voldemort detested the bodily deed he was about to commit, but the ritual magic made sure he would be able to finish it regardless of his feelings about such a primal act.

He used his hand to grab hold of himself and pushed both heads unceremoniously against the already closing hole. The preparation fulfilled its use and Voldemort was able to slip in without resistance and without experiencing an overwhelming tightness.

The loose warmth around him was slightly uncomfortable but he needed to paint the walls of the incubation place with his seed. Voldemort’s essence of life would be absorbed into the eggs to bind the hatchlings further to him and also prevent them from accepting the magic of _Harry Potter_ instead of his own. 

Voldemort held on his Horcrux’ hips and used quick, precise movements to bring himself to an orgasm. He listened detached to the moaning and keening in the air as the magic around them pushed him over the edge. He felt his seed pumping into the body before him and kept still a few moments longer to make sure even the last drop would be absorbed. He pulled back and felt his hemipenes already retreating back into his body. Good riddance. He could not allow himself to be distracted tonight.

Kneeling back on the lowest step, Voldemort was on eye level with his Horcrux entrance. He could see the clenching muscles painted in his white seed. The ritual magic prevented it from leaving his Horcrux body, so he had the time to carefully unwrap the eggs of their warming covering. One by one were laid down between his Horcrux spread knees, for as soon as Voldemort started the inserting, everything should be easily accessible. 

A quick glance around reassured Voldemort that everything was in order. The blue flames of the runes had turned into a pale purple, the time was right to tie the next step. 

He cupped the first egg into his hands and brought it to his lips before he recited the needed chant in parseltongue. His Horcrux shifted before him. Voldemort used to speak the serpent tongue to deliver threats. It was effective because of the sheer terror it invoked in all but his Horcrux, who reacted much more _differently_ than anyone else. Even now, terrified for what was about to come, tied down onto an altar and spread open impossibly wide, he began to shift. Voldemort could see how he tried to close his thighs, to hide his arousal, but the bindings kept them spread. 

With a last hiss, Voldemort brought the fist-sized egg to the entrance and pushed carefully. He was zeroed in on his task as he had already invested too much time and magic into the preparation of this ritual as that failure would be tolerable. 

With a squelching sound, the egg passed the fast narrowing rim and sunk into the place that would keep it warm and secure till it’s hatching day. 

Like he did earlier that day, Voldemort reached around his already crying Horcrux and laid a hand on his lower stomach before he used his long fingers to push the egg even further - he needed space for the other two, after all. He watched as the egg sunk in deeper, becoming coated by his seed in the process, and didn’t stop until he could feel the stomach bulging under his hand again. 

Satisfied he proceeded with his task and repeated the process till the second and third egg were also fitted snugly within his Horcrux, who was nothing but a shivering mess by now. He would need to calm down, as they were not finished yet. 

Voldemort used his hand under the bulge to trace over his Horcrux‘ sides in slow calming motions, till all that betrayed his Horcrux state of mind were his quivering thighs and the layer of sweat coating his whole body. And, of course, his still clenching hole. Even filled to the brim as he was, his Horcrux’ body would not be averse to _more._ Which, all things considered, was fortunate.

Resting his hand on the small of his Horcrux‘ back, Voldemort reached out for the last utensil needed. The golden plug shined in the light of the inflamed runes around them. Out of context, it wouldn't even register as a plug, for it was flat in comparison, and _wide_ , with just a small handle to keep itself in place at the entrance. The many spaces needed for the entirety of the small, engraved runes, which would allow Voldemort to monitor the wellbeing of the eggs as well as their incubator.

It would take much time and effort to open his Horcrux up again to extract the plug when the time came, but Voldemort would see to that at the right time. He doubted that his Horcrux would be in any mental capacity to struggle against it by then. 

He pushed the wide, flat side of the plug at his Horcrux entrance and didn’t mind the faint begging to stop as he watched the rim slowly finding its way around the rounded edges of it. Just a small push more and the plug was in place, hiding the eggs, and the clenching muscles around them, from his view. With his fingers on the handle, he started reciting the final chant and pressed down hard on his Horcrux lower back to keep him still as he reacted to the sound of parseltongue again. 

Ever so slowly, the rim narrowed down until, finally, it closed around the thin connecting piece between the internal resting flat side and the handle. With a last hiss, Voldemort ended his chant and simultaneously all the light around them vanished, leaving them under the moonless sky. 

With a deep breath, to shake off all the fatigue of the taxing ritual magic, Voldemort stood up and quickly clad himself in his robes again. He held on a smaller one for his Horcrux but first- he put a hold on the handle of the plug and tugged sharply.

Choked off moan of his Horcrux aside, nothing reacted. He tried to tease in a finger along the connecting piece, but the rim didn’t open for him. It was as if it had never been opened before, as if Voldemort had not spent the better part of the day nearly elbow deep in it, or as if there have not passed through three Basilisk eggs just now. Perfect. 

With quick movements, he opened the bindings of the altar to free his Horcrux and helped him sit up. He still did not care for the pitiful, needy noises that left his Horcrux, but Voldemort was enthralled with seeing the stomach bulging - _seeing_ where his magical legacy rested. He almost didn’t want to clad his Horcrux into a robe, but he needed to keep them warm, sadly. 

oOoOoOo

**_Day 1_ **

It wasn’t that bad. 

Well. The sheer _fullness_ was nearly unbearable, especially when he moved, but it wasn’t nearly as horrible as Harry had imagined it to be. 

The few times he managed to forget his heavy stomach and caged cock he could even enjoy his situation. He was finally warm and comfortable again, in his new noticeable bigger room with soft cushions and fuzzy blankets. He had tasty and filling drinks, even though he didn’t want to dwell on the reasons why he wasn’t allowed solid food for the next fortnight.

He even had real clothes - at least as real as simple robes without anything to wear underneath could be classified as such. 

But he had rotted in the dungeons long enough to not be picky with his comfort now. He would take what he was given. And well - he _had_ already taken what Voldemort had to give, hadn’t he? 

He laid a hand on his bulged stomach and felt the hardness shifting beneath it. Felt it shifting _inside_ him and a shudder ran down his spine. He had been terrified as Voldemort had proposed an opportunity to him, in exchange for a minimum of leeway and comfort. But Harry was sick of rotting forgotten by all of his _friends_ down there in the dark and cold. 

And — it wasn’t that bad, was it? 

**_Day 2_ **

It was bad. 

Voldemort kept _touching_ him. 

His mind wouldn’t allow him to think back on the _preparation,_ how it had felt and what it did to him ~~how he hadn’t really wanted it to stop, how he had relished under the careful but firm attention~~.

But Voldemort, who had said he would be just interested in the ritual, came back regularly to _touch_ him. Or rather, touch _them_. 

He kept barging into Harry's room, pulling his robe open without further ado, baring Harry to the empty room, covered in nothing but the cock cage. And he laid a hand on Harry’s stomach, on the bulge caused by the eggs. Voldemort wore the kind of blissed-out expression Harry imagined fathers-to-be would have while touching the swollen bellies of their wives. And didn’t that thought creeped Harry even more out than the ritual, and all surrounding it, had done. 

At least, Harry didn’t feel the fullness any longer as crippling as before. It seemed he had grown used to it. 

It was bearable, soon he would be done, and life would be good. 

**_Day 3_ **

Oh Merlin, it wasn’t bearable.

It would become horrible damn soon.

It would leave Harry probably scarred for the rest of his life.

How could he have been so _stupid_?  
Agreeing to participate in a ritual without knowing anything about it?

Harry tried to hold on to his duvets to keep himself somewhat stable while Voldemort hammered with his damn wide double penis into him from behind. One hand gripping Harry’s hip brutally while the other laid softly on his stomach, feeling the bulge beneath moving up and down due to the fact that Voldemort tried his best to shove Harry over his bed by the rough speed of his hip snapping alone. 

To stifle his noises, Harry bit into the fabric beneath him. Just as with the ritual they wouldn’t help him. Voldemort wouldn’t let off of him before he was spent inside of Harry, coating the eggs again in his seed, while he himself wasn’t allowed to get off for the duration of his… _duty_. Voldemort had made his expectations for Harry very clear and the damned cage was supposed to help Harry control himself. As if he would need the support. As if the feeling of eggs shifting inside of him with every movement, every moment of the day; the memory of how Voldemort had opened him up for them; how Voldemort had pounded into him, while Harry was bound helpless and spread wide before him; just as he did now but with Harry being already filled to the brim with the eggs — ~~maybe Voldemort knew what he did, after all.~~ ~~~~

This couldn’t get any worse.

**_Day 4_ **

It- 

_Oh Merlin, help him._

It had become so much worse. 

Harry was a fool. 

Such a fool. 

How-  
How could he have been so stupid?

He should have known. At least after Voldemort had spent so much time working him open again the day prior just to make sure the _hatchlings_ would be fed with his seed when the time came. 

Harry had known his duty would last thirteen days.  
Why should Voldemort go through the hassle ten days early? 

He didn’t.

We went through the hassle right on time. 

_Before the Basilisks would hatch inside Harry._

**_Day 5_ **

He-  
He couldn’t-

It was wrong, so wrong. 

Yesterday he suddenly felt the hard bulge getting soft as the eggshells dissolved and the _hatchlings_ began sliding through his insides. 

He felt them moving and coiling and sometimes he even thought he could feel them licking at his insides, eating the seed Voldemort had provided.

It honestly creeped Harry out. 

It was wrong, so wrong. 

~~And he was so, so fucking glad for the cage because he didn’t want to get off because of it.~~

**_Day 6_ **

Ok, ok. 

He had this.   
He could do this.

Almost halfway through. 

He still felt _them_ moving inside of him, sometimes even brushing his prostate and bringing him to his knees due to the sensation running through his body. 

He could swear they were getting bigger by the hour, but that couldn’t be, could it? They were only a few days old and didn’t eat anything except for Voldemort’s seed. 

Oh Merlin, what would they eat after that? 

Voldemort wouldn’t remove the plug before the thirteenth day, he said as much. Which means he couldn’t fuck and fill Harry with his seed again until then. So how-?

Maybe-   
Maybe, Harry would have to suck him off? Swallow the seed to bring it to the snakes inside of him? 

But-   
That wasn’t how it worked, was it? 

Merlin please, don’t let it be how it worked. 

The thought of Voldemort’s twin-length heavy on his tongue, it-  
It wouldn’t fit, would it? 

It had just fit his _other hole_ after much preparation. And his mouth wouldn’t be able to stretch that much, he was sure of it.

Oh please, let it be anything but that. 

**_Day 7_ **

Oh no.  
No, no, no, no, _no._

Harry would be really, really glad to suck Voldemort off right now.

It would be so much better then-

Oh, no.  
He couldn’t even think about it. 

The snakes _had_ become bigger.  
Harry could see them moving inside of him now.   
How the bulge in his stomach wandered up and down, sometimes even divided into two or three. 

Sometimes, he could swear he felt them move against the plug, pushing it again and again against his rim, teasing it from the inside. 

And they-  
They-

Another shudder wrecked Harry’s body, as he felt a tongue teasing his prostate again. He crashed to the ground, sweat layering his skin. The air helped cooling it but at the same time, nothing could cool him down.   
His body felt so hot, it was unbearable. 

The snakes were at it for _hours_ now. Harry didn’t know-  
He didn’t know how much longer he could take it. 

His cock tried, again and again, to fill up and release some of the pent-up tension, but the cage wouldn’t allow it. Harry suspected Voldemort of additional enchantment or runes on it.

Harry was-   
Every nerve was high strung.   
He couldn’t- 

A shadow fell over him.

"Oh, dear. You need to be more careful, what if something had happened to the hatchlings?"

**_Day 8_ **

Harry couldn’t move.

It wasn’t as if he would be able to escape the sensations inside him either way. 

But he couldn’t _move_. 

He could just lay here where Voldemort had bedded him after his fall and bear everything that happened to him. 

“The paralysis might be uncomfortable but it’s to your own benefit, little Horcrux. I doubt you could let your muscles be relaxed enough to not irritate the- _your_ hatchlings. And we don’t want them to bite you, do we now? After all… they just need to _milk_ you for their nutrition.“ 

And hadn’t that been a revelation he could have lived without?  
He really didn’t need to know that-  
That-  
Oh no, not aga- 

All Harry could do was take a shivering breath before his mouth fell open in a broken moan and a bone-deep shudder ran through his body as he felt something relentlessly brushing his prostate again. 

**_Day 9_ **

Harry was vaguely aware of the drool on his face, but he couldn’t care less about it.  
He couldn’t care about anything but the sweet moment of peace in between the agony.

He wouldn’t be able to move and brush the drool away even when he wasn't bound by some potions Voldemort had put into his drinks.  
  


**_Day 10_ **

He couldn’t breathe.

It was so much. Too much.

His eyes were open, but he couldn’t see.

He was sure his mouth was open and noises leaving him, but he couldn’t hear.

It was too much.  
  


**_Day 11_ **

  
  


**_Day 12_ **

  
  


**_Day 13_ **

Far, far away from any coherent thought, Harry felt how his body being moved. 

The feeling of something on his skin, rather than inside of him, was almost enough to distract him from the numbing haze around his senses. 

_They_ had become too big to keep sliding around or _milking_ him near constantly as they did in the beginning. 

Now they just fed sparingly, but the sheer permanent _fullness_ and the required movement to reach his prostate in turns had his mind blanking again and again. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed. He could barely even remember a time _before_.

He had long lost all shame and didn’t care about being on display. All he cared about was the cool touch on his skin. He signed as the touch wandered over his nearly bursting stomach. Rubbing small soothing circles on it. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know it would be Voldemort. There was no one else who would be that reverend and careful in his touch. 

Or so Harry thought but then Voldemort pressed and _pressed_ down, and Harry’s mouth opened to scream as if he had any voice left after the agony of the past. 

Voldemort kept pushing and Harry was sure he would rip apart. There was no way _they_ would find a way out, had Voldemort forgotten about the plug that locked Harry’s body? 

Harry tensed up and let tears falling free in fear before he was _hushed_ by Voldemort. For the first time in who knows how long, Harry felt prodding at his entrance. Cold fingers slipped into his hole and pulled the rim open. 

The plug- was already gone? 

How-   
How could he have missed it?  
There was no way! How could he have missed being stretched open wide enough for the ridiculous large plug to be removed? He-

Oh no.

_It began._

oOoOoOo

Voldemort watched with rapt attention as all his efforts finally bore fruits and the last stage of the procedure began. 

His Horcrux was held up in a swing-like rope construction that Voldemort had specifically created for this purpose. The bindings took hold of his Horcrux arms and shoulders as well as his knees which were spread wide open by a metal bar to leave him open for Voldemort’s hands. 

The hole was already stretched open, as Voldemort had worked the plug out. His Horcrux had not reacted at all after Voldemort had him positioned into the ropes. Like the days before, he was completely dissociated. Voldemort was glad he had thought of his Horcrux to replace his own participation as an incubator - unthinkable what would have happened with his empire if he were to be lost in the ritual for a fortnight.

Especially since he could not have survived it on his own, considering how he had to keep his Horcrux nurtured these last days and on occasion even had to keep his breath going or his blood pressure down when the sensations became too much. 

But Voldemort was not fussed about it, there were more important matters now. He used his fingers to spread the rim wide open and discovered the sheen of wet scales inside. It seemed the basilisks would need help. 

He ignored his Horcrux’ noises as he laid a hand on the impossibly blown stomach, like so often these past days. It was astounding what the human body was capable of. With a last caress of the sweat layered skin, he started to push down carefully.

Voldemort could feel the movement under his hand and could not help himself but become excited about it. It was the last proof that he _really_ had succeeded. All his calculations and preparations. 

He put pressure on the bulge in circular movements, till finally, the scaled flesh started to emerge out of his Horcrux. It was not as easy going as Voldemort had imagined. The Basilisk did not just slither out as he had anticipated but it was obviously coiled as it was forced out of his screaming Horcrux - almost tearing the rim due to its doubled width.

Since the snake body held the rim open on its own, Voldemort used his now free hand to carefully hook a finger into the scaled crook and pulled ever so slowly while still pressing down on the stomach with his other hand. 

With a squelching sound, the Basilisk’s head slipped out of his Horcrux’ warm embrace - the rest of its body fast following through the loose and slightly bloody rim.   
While Voldemort hissed calming words through the Basilisk’s aggregated sounds, he admired the shiny wet, white scales and red eyes of it. It was only fitting, that the first newborn Basilisk in this era would have a resemblance to himself.

To finish the ritual, Voldemort nicked his finger on a prepared silver needle and let one drop of his blood fall into the Basilisk’s open mouth. Its eyes flared in a bright light before it settled down into Voldemort’s lap. He did not think twice about it. Bonding magic always tired the participants out. 

But Voldemort himself could not rest yet. His hand shot out to catch the end of a black tail that had fallen out of his Horcrux. He was too loose. A quick glance told Voldemort that his Horcrux had passed out again, it was probably for the better, his tenseness was just a hindrance for the extraction. 

With tender hands, Voldemort pulled softly at the trashing tail and freed the Basilisk of its confinement. Or so he thought, till the head was freed and the black Basilisk kept spitting nonsense as it’s white brethren, with the exception that Voldemort was able to make out single words like _warmth_ and _food_.

Interesting.  
While he repeated the final stage of the bonding ritual with the second Basilisk, Voldemort pondered the thought if they were born with the inherent knowledge of basic language or if they maybe had _conversed_ while being incubated. 

It would be subject of further contemplation but now Voldemort battled away the settling fatigue as he let the black Basilisk also down onto his lap. 

The final one didn’t show itself, so Voldemort inserted his hand for a last time of this hatching circle and felt around with searching fingers till he touched scales again. He started easing it out as he felt the walls around his hand tensing and heard truly pitiful noises coming from his Horcrux. 

Voldemort was not amused. The extraction obviously worked better while his Horcrux was not able to participate. At this delicate stage, Voldemort was not able to use magic to keep his Horcrux's mind away.

Although, he did not need magic for such a simple task, did he? In a rare moment of spontaneous action, Voldemort unclamped the cage around his Horcrux’ penis and tugged with a firm hand on it. It barely required any touch, till his Horcrux jolted in his bindings with a guttural sound and looked with wide-open but unseeing eyes between his legs, where Voldemort's hand had disappeared into him and the other hand held his still cum spurting member.

Voldemort watched detached as his Horcrux’ eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped into the ropes, chest covered in thick white liquid and, finally, all muscles lose again. 

With a focused mind, Voldemort went back to his task and, always carefully, pried the last Basilisk out into the open. 

It was compared to its brethren, a small thing. And it was _red_ , of all things. 

Still. Basilisk was Basilisk, so Voldemort repeated the bonding ritual a last time and slumped back into his seat; there was no one there to witness his small moment of weakness. 

No one but the Basilisks, which were now all scenting the air. It was the red one, still in his hands and thus next to his Horcrux, that opened Voldemort’s eyes for their needs. 

It tried to stretch itself back towards his Horcrux and in a moment of curiosity, Voldemort gave in and indulged it. He brought the Basilisk to one of his Horcrux’ legs and observed as it made its way toward his chest.

It slithered through the white cum, coated its scales in it, before-   
Before it started eating it off the bare skin of his Horcrux. 

Voldemort blinked slowly upon this unexpected discovery and lifted the white and black one to join the red in its meal. He watched as both also started cleaning his Horcrux of his seed. 

Who would have thought? Voldemort had anticipated that the secretion which the prostate excreted upon stimulation would be enough nutrition to see the eggs through the hatching process and help the hatchlings grow. He had _not_ anticipated that seed could be used even after the extraction. 

Interesting.   
Voldemort had initially intended to separate his Horcrux from the Basilisks but as it seemed, they would be better kept together. For the moment at least. 

He instructed all three individuality to never, and under any circumstances use their deathly venom on his Horcrux, and while they did not seem to hear him, as they were engrossed with their meal, he felt the magic of his command settle around them. It had to be good enough. 

He opened the rope construction and levitated his Horcrux together with the still roaming Basilisks over to the bed. 

Upon laying down, his Horcrux tossed his head and opened a single eye. He opened his mouth but all that left were some incoherent noises. Voldemort used the opportunity to feed him a few strengthening and nutrition positions before he petted his hair in a short motion as others would pet their beloved dog. 

“You did good little Horcrux, now rest. You need to build up your strength again. The next batch is almost finished.“ 

There was an empty feeling deep inside of him. He was used to being stretched now, his muscles loose and all but giving up on clenching around the _intrusion._ But now they were done. Voldemort had everything he needed out of him; the ritual couldn’t be done another time anymore. And Voldemort wouldn’t suffer through filling him up without the ritual needing it. 

But at least, he had his new companions now. They would stretch him further and further as they grew, and he would _take_ _it_ as long as he was able to.

He clenched his fists into the sheets and moaned broken into them as he twisted without control on the blankets. 

He felt the body of his eldest wrapping around him, halting him in his movements and keeping him secure and stable. They hissed calming nonsense in his ear as a younger one tried to get back into his warmth. He might have been getting used to being loose at all times, but they had already taken to a length and wide he wasn’t able to take without _much_ preparation anymore. 

He felt the blunt head rearing back and was barely able to hold back a desperate sob. He wouldn’t be filled today. He would need to ask Voldemort for his help again. To stretch him further. To let the younglings taste his sweetness again

Although-

Harry nearly cried in relief as he felt the fluttering feeling of a forked tongue against his entrance. It seemed, they would be able to _milk_ him again without having to beg for Voldemort’s participation. 

Small mercies.

Except-

Harry whimpered as one of the youngest and smallest ones wound themself securely around the base of his balls, forcing them away from his body, and up around his shaft. 

Voldemort had taught the first hatchlings that Harry’s _Ambrosia_ was way sweeter and more substantial if he wasn’t allowed to spend his seed. He explained to them in simple terms, what they had to do, to force Harry to keep it all in, to let his secret gland use all the resources. And they had been ambitious students. 

He couldn't do anything except laying bound in their nest, a long tongue breaching his entrance, and working his insides as his balls and cock were being held in a strong grip and a small tongue started to tease the head, slowly forcing its way inside.

There was no mercy for him.

_And he relished in it._

**Author's Note:**

> I have [tumblr](https://ellionne.tumblr.com/) now. I’m not entirely sure what to do with it yet, but feel free to check it out and throw me a question or something. :D


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